


Cabin Fever

by Skalidra



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Injury, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 11:55:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10662075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skalidra/pseuds/Skalidra
Summary: In one random fight, Dick takes a badly angled shot to the knee that puts him out of commission. As his partner, and the one living with him, it's Jason's job to keep Dick off his feet until he heals. Not an easy job, not with Dick's resistance to ever staying still, but he has to do it. At least there'soneway that he knows for sure can bleed out some of Dick's extra energy.





	Cabin Fever

**Author's Note:**

> **This was an anonymous commission!** (Asking for injured!Dick feeling trapped, and Jason comforting him.) Enjoy!
> 
> [You can find my Tumblr here!](http://skalidra.tumblr.com/)

Jason hears the news secondhand, barely in the door after the end of his patrol before the comm he’s yet to remove crackles to life and Alfred’s gentle, precise voice tells him that Dick’s been hurt. (And would he please come to the manor? ‘Master Richard’ listens to him moderately better than the rest of them.)

He breaks speed limits all the way there, but not even Gotham cops are stupid enough to chase Red Hood, so apart from a few skidding turns that don’t even come close to raising the already heightened pound of his heart, there’s no incidents between his— _their_ apartment—and the distant manor. Jason takes the back entrance, turning his bike through the hidden path to the Cave and finally letting himself slow down, just a little. No one would ever let him live it down if he crashed into one of the walls of the tunnel, and his bike isn’t high-tech enough to have the Cave’s tunnels mapped into an autopilot.

He’s already scanning the room as he skids to a stop, flicking the kickstand down and taking just long enough to turn the bike off and pull his helmet off his head. The infirmary’s hidden by a curve of steel wall from the parking area, and he spares only a glance at the rest of the Cave before he heads for it. That’s enough for him to see the solid, black back of Bruce in front of the computer, and a smaller, red and black form coming towards him from that same direction. Tim, and the brat is fast enough to get in front of Jason before he can reach the curve of that wall and steps, very deliberately, in his way.

Jason stops, which is a whole lot more than he would have given even a few months ago, and all but growls, “What?”

Tim looks entirely unphased by his aggression, and lifts a hand to tick off on his fingers as he says, “Dick’s knee got hit at a bad angle. No surgery required. He’ll be fine.”

Which is… good information, but, “Then why the hell are you in my way?”

“Because it’s faster than you trying to get the information from him, and because he’s under a couple shots of morphine,” is Tim’s cool response. “You know how Dick gets when he’s drugged.”

Yeah, he does. Sensitive. Dick gets _sensitive_ to people’s moods, to touch, to everything around him. Maybe it’s that workaholic streak to him rebounding, seeking _something_ to do while he can’t work on anything else, but a drugged out Dick is scarily perceptive and clingy as all hell at the same time. And if the dose is high enough, he won’t have the rational thought to know why the people around him are angry, or frightened, or anything else negative. It takes a lot to get him to that point, but if he is…

Jason still doesn’t like that Tim is physically blocking him, but he at least gets it now. He can… almost appreciate it. “Alright,” he grants, and takes a deeper breath, tries to make himself calm down. Dick will be _fine_. It’s just another injury, no different than the ones they all get from time to time.

Tim watches him for a moment, then steps out of his way.

Jason moves again, rounding the corner and coming up on the beds laid out there. Dick is on one, bare except for a pair of briefs clinging close to his skin, the patchwork of minor bruises not looking like anything they don’t deal with regularly. Hell, some of them Jason remembers giving himself (he’d be embarrassed but maybe a little proud in any other circumstance that had Dick shirtless). It’s only the brace locked around his left knee, and the ice pack layered over it, that disrupts the otherwise normal picture. He’s not hooked up to anything, there’s no bleeding, and the way that he looks up and breaks into a smile looks more tired than drugged. Blurry distinction there.

“Jason,” Dick murmurs, pushing up on his elbows and _that’s_ when the drugs become more obvious, setting him swaying a bit as he slowly starts to sit up.

“Easy,” Jason says in answer, as he hurries over to gently press Dick back down by both shoulders. Dick goes, which really is proof enough of how high he must be. “Heard you got hit pretty hard,” he murmurs, taking a seat on the bed and slipping one hand up to comb Dick’s hair back from his face.

He gets a small smile in answer, as Dick’s head tilts up into his touch. “You worried for me?” is the gentle tease, followed by a slightly hazy, “‘M fine, Jay.”

“Well I knew _that_. You’ve always been fine, Goldie.” That gets him a little giggle, and Jason shifts to be a little more comfortable, giving Dick what he wants in the form of letting one hand come down and cradle the side of his face. “Tim told me on the way in that you’re going to heal up just fine with a little time. What do you say we get you back home so you can relax, babe?"

Dick nuzzles against his hand, giving a soft, pleased noise. Lips press to Jason's palm, before there's a murmured, "Don't think Alfred's done with me. He was… here a second ago."

Jason strokes a thumb over the curve of Dick's jaw. "I'm sure he was. Alright, how about I just sit with you then, alright? We can wait for him to come back, and then we can get you out of here and back home." Dick's smile brightens, and despite himself, Jason can feel the worry and the lingering fear ebb away. He's never been able to resist that kind of a smile. "Okay, now I don't want you helping when I move you, okay? I'm going to shift you around, and I want you to just let me do it."

"Alright," Dick agrees, easily.

It's a little hard to extract his hand, but he manages it after a moment. Luckily he's had some experience hauling injured people around, or it would be more of a challenge to pull Dick over to one side of the bed and then up to sitting. The beds are built for Bats, and since every single one of them is remarkably bad at actually lying down for extended periods, they've all got good sized headboards to lean back against. Jason pulls Dick up against it, then gets onto the bed himself so he can pull Dick up against his side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pressing a small kiss to the side of his head.

He can't be all that comfortable, not still in his armor and jacket, but Dick presses close anyway, head pushing in underneath his chin. A hand finds Jason's jacket and curls into it, and Dick gives a small, happy sigh against his neck.

"There we go," Jason murmurs, keeping Dick close against his side and carefully watching the injured knee to make sure Dick doesn't try and move it. "Comfortable, Goldie?" Dick's only response is a small hum, but it sounds like an agreement so Jason decides to take it as one. "Good. Just relax then, babe. I'll keep an eye out for Alfred." Another small hum, and he can feel Dick's weight settle against him, warm and reassuringly solid.

Jason does as he's promised, keeping his gaze raised towards the rest of the Cave apart from quick glances towards Dick's knee, so he can keep an eye out for whoever comes back first. It's Alfred, as expected (Bruce will work himself to exhaustion out of guilt, then pass out for a couple hours well into dawn). The footsteps are enough to get Dick to shift, head lifting a little bit off of his chest and turning toward the sound. Jason, nearly automatically, gives a small hushing noise.

"Stay still," he reminds Dick, with a pointed tap of his free hand to the hip of the injured leg, before he looks up at Alfred. "Hey, what's the short version?"

Alfred looks somewhere close to bemused as he comes up to the side of the bed, handing over a small bag that Jason takes, careful not to disturb Dick. "Merely an unlucky angle; a few weeks off his feet and in that brace and Master Dick will be fine. Assuming that you can get him to follow instructions, for once."

"I'll do my best," Jason promises, and Alfred gives a small smile.

"Yes, I imagine you will." One long finger points towards the small, white bag that Jason's now holding. "Instructions, and the medications he'll need. Simple painkillers, and a heavier dose for sleep. Do you want me to run you through them before the two of you head out?"

"That's alright, but um…” Jason fights not to blush, embarrassment heating his chest. "Could you lend me a car so I can get him back to our apartment? I came on my bike, and I can't get him back on that thing."

One of Alfred's eyebrows rises, and Jason's heart sinks a little as there comes the sharp, "Absolutely not." But then Alfred's face slides into a small, crooked smile, and he adds on, "However, I will drive you both there; you may need a second person to get him settled after all, at least to begin with. Give me a few minutes to ensure the others will manage without my presence, and then I'll assist you in getting him upstairs."

Jason can feel himself ease again, and he gives a small smile of his own. "Thanks, Alfred."

"Of course, Master Jason. I was hardly going to leave the two of you to fend for yourselves." The second part is tossed over his shoulder, as Alfred turns to go.

"Hear that, Goldie?" Jason murmurs, turning his head down to press another soft kiss to Dick's hair. "Just a few minutes and we'll get you out of here. We can head home, and you can get some rest."

Dick's head tilts back far enough to look at him, gaze slightly hazed but still almost overwhelmingly fond. "Will you read to me, Jay?"

Jason strokes Dick's hair back, and can't help a small curl of his own lips. "Yeah, Dick. Sure."

* * *

It goes as well as trying to keep Dick from doing what he wants to always does. That is, not well. Jason _tries_ to keep him from putting weight on his knee, or moving around by himself, but he only succeeds about eighty percent of the time. Considering Dick's level of stubbornness, and the cabin fever that overtakes him within the day, Jason considers that a pretty good rate, actually.

Half of it is just making sure he's paying attention, honestly. Dick does things he shouldn't pretty regularly, but as long as Jason is there to catch him at it before it gets too far, things don't go too terribly wrong. On the positive side, Dick hasn't actually fallen or seriously hurt himself yet, despite how he's trying.

Yet.

"Jason," Dick murmurs, nudging at his side with one hand, smiling sweet and charming and _manipulative_. "Come on, it's just a little bit of movement. Just a few minutes?"

"Getting there would take getting you down the stairs, across town, and into the damn building," he counters, trying not to look up at that smile. He's always been weak to Dick's smile, even when he's sure that he's doing the right thing. In this case, doing the right thing means resisting every single type of persuasion Dick tries until the swollen, twisted mess of his knee is healed. "It's not happening, Dick. I'm not that gullible."

Injury, in their line of work, isn't exactly uncommon. Usually it's something simple enough they can work around it, or take a day or two off (with the right care) and have it heal up before they get back on the streets. Bruises and scrapes are common, as are twinged muscles, but every once in awhile, things end up a little worse. Whether it's someone with a bit of enhanced strength, or just an unlucky hit, every once in awhile a bone goes, or a muscle gets torn, or something dislocates in a way that it definitely shouldn't. Those take a whole lot longer to heal, and if there's one thing every damn Bat has in common, it's that they're god-awful patients.

Dick gives a huff of breath, leaning back against the couch. " _Jason_ , come on. I'm better than that; I'm not going to hurt myself with a little bit of aerial work. I can do it with my arms, bind up my knee, I'll be _fine_."

"No," he says again, flipping to the next page of his book. "Dick, you can't do acrobatics with a fucked knee, golden boy or not. When you're healed, you can do whatever kind of exercise you want. Until then, you're going to sit your ass on this couch or the bed, take your painkillers on time, and get around on crutches. You try anything else, you're just going to delay that."

The sigh that Dick gives is a heavy thing, frustration bleeding into the edges as he tilts his head back against the couch.

That's enough to get Jason to carefully mark his place in the book before setting it down, turning on the couch to look over at Dick. On the way, his gaze slides over the brace holding Dick's kneecap in place, and keeping him from hurting himself any worse. Dick's eyes are closed, brow a little bit furrowed. Jason knows, past the smiles and the wheedling, that Dick can barely stand being stuck in one place for a couple days, let alone the weeks it's going to take for him to heal. _Keeping_ him in one place is a hell of a job, but it's Jason's job, and he's going to do it as best he can.

It had to happen at some point, right? One of them had to get actually hurt at some point, and Jason always thought it would be him, but well… apparently it was Dick's turn to bite the bullet.

Couldn’t have happened to a person less suited for it, really. Dick’s not meant to be trapped in one place, not with all of that flying that he does. Being stuck in one place, being _grounded_ , is the absolute fastest way to make Dick both miserable and absolutely stir crazy. Three quarters of babysitting an injured Dick is trying to keep him entertained enough that he doesn’t get bored enough to be reckless.

Jason has the equally miserable feeling that he’s not doing particularly well in that regard. He’s not… built for this. He can be here, he can get Dick whatever he needs (even if he doesn’t admit to needing it), but he’s apparently not good at coming up with anything that will actually help Dick feel like he’s not caged. He’s never gotten it this bad before; he doesn’t have any personal experience to draw from.

He leans over, and Dick's head turns in enough time that Jason can catch his mouth in a small kiss. Dick is still against him, but it's just a brush of lips, and a moment later Jason's pulling back, pressing another one to the corner of his mouth, then his jaw. Dick shifts towards him then, a hand curling into his shirt and pulling him a little bit closer as their jaws slide together. Dick hasn't shaved in a couple days; the stubble scratches at his skin. (Golden boy actually doesn't look half-bad with a bit of stubble, though Jason knows he wears it better. Course he does.)

"You're gonna be alright," Jason promises, against the skin just below Dick's ear. "Just tell me what you need, Dick."

"I _did_ ," Dick grumbles, shifting a little closer, again.

Jason snorts, lifts a hand and combs it back through Dick's hair. "I'm not letting you hurt yourself just cause you've got excess energy. You want me to make you good food, set you up with Netflix, fetch you things from the manor, or other safehouses, you got it. But we're not going off to a gym halfway across town so you can fuck up your knee some more and make yourself even more miserable in the long run."

Dick turns, nuzzles in under his chin and presses a kiss to the side of his throat. "Then maybe we could… do something else? Something… a little easier?" It’s hard to miss the implication of the words, given the low tone they’re said in.

He should really pull away, but then Dick bites at his neck and Jason has to suck in a breath, his eyes flickering a little bit. Dick tugs at his shirt, shifting closer, moving to bite at another portion of his neck. Still light, but it's a promise, Jason knows that. He knows exactly how this goes, not that it ever gets old. It could never be anything but good when it comes to Dick.

Really, he should have known that Dick would do something like this. Dick doesn't give out sex freely, but once he cares for you, and once he's committed, it's one of his _very_ favorite things. Being stuck here, having energy he isn't allowed to work out in other ways? Of course Dick would turn to sex to bleed all that excess off. Fun, exercise, and a physical and emotional intimacy that’s deep enough to nearly scare Jason even on the best days; it’s everything that Dick loves, minus the all-consuming workaholic traits that get him in trouble. (Though Jason has some suspicions that it translates over into Dick’s usually overwhelming attention to driving him utterly insane before taking his own pleasure even once.)

His fingers flex in Dick’s hair, caught between pushing Dick away and the reminder from his body that since Dick has been drugged out on painkillers they’ve done something sexual all of _once_ in the last week. God, he has jacked off so many times to try and compensate for all the physical closeness without the accompanying sex that he’s used to.

" _Fuck_ ," he hisses, as Dick nibbles at his earlobe. "Dick, I… You're still healing."

"So I'll be careful," comes Dick's quiet, low response. "Come on, Jay. You know there are plenty of ways we can do this that are safe." Another nip to Jason's ear that makes him grit his teeth and try to stifle the gasp that wants to escape. "Let me have this, Jason. _Please_."

He can't bring himself to say _no_.

He takes a slightly shaky breath, and pushes Dick back just enough to look him in the eye before he says, "We do this by my rules, alright? You tell me if there's any pain, and we figure it out or stop if we have to. That's my condition, Dick, got it?"

The way Dick smiles, like he's just won something precious, is enough to make Jason melt even before he gets the answer of, "Deal. Absolutely. So, gonna sweep me off my feet, Jay? Carry me off to the bedroom?"

"Do you want to be carried?" he teases, easing into a small grin now that he's not as worried about getting Dick hurt. He leans in to steal a brief kiss, brushing lips over Dick's before pulling back again to get a look at his expression.

“Well, it is rather romantic,” Dick points out, equally teasing. “And I know how much of a sap you are underneath all that leather. You can’t hide from me, Little WIng.”

“You’re a dork,” he accuses, but he does move to slide an arm underneath Dick’s back and upper thighs, carefully bracing before he lifts. Dick is _heavy_ , like always (being all muscle will do that), but nothing he can’t handle with a little work. And it’s totally worth it for the way that Dick grins at him and wraps arms around his neck to hold on, as Jason spins around and heads for the bedroom.

He has to go sideways through the door to avoid smacking anything of Dick’s into the frame, and setting him down on the bed is a little bit of a challenge, one that his back protests, but once he’s got Dick laid out on the bed, smiling up at him, all that gets pushed aside. Jason lets Dick pull him forward onto the bed, catching himself with a hand above Dick’s shoulder and an amused huff of breath. Dick is quick to pull him into a kiss, tongue sliding between his lips with easy familiarity, one hand pulling tight in Jason’s hair to keep him there. He can’t help but give a small groan into the kiss at that feeling; Dick’s not the only one who’s a little wound up from the lack of anything this last week. It's… nice, to be close again. (The one handjob he gave when Dick was high-as-fuck really didn't count.)

"So how do you want to do this?" Jason asks, when the kiss breaks. "Anything you want, Dick." He has to pause, then clarify, "You know, within limits."

Dick snorts. "Very smooth, Jay."

"Well, I try." Dick tugs him into another kiss, a briefer, shallower one, and Jason has to wait until it ends to ask, "Tell me what you want?"

Dick combs fingers through the black hair beneath them, gives a low, thoughtful hum, and then murmurs, "I want you to fuck me. Just like this."

The spike of arousal that slams down into Jason's gut shouldn't be as strong as it is from something so _simple_ , but he still finds himself having to swallow before he can speak. "Yeah? You're sure that it won't—?"

" _Yes_ ," Dick interrupts, with a curling smile. "Jason, it'll be fine. Trust me."

"Of course I do," Jason has to answer. Then he leans down, brushing a kiss over Dick's forehead. "Alright, you got it. Let's warm you up then, Goldie."

Dick tugs him into a real kiss, fingers tight in his hair and tongue sliding back into his mouth to explore. Jason gives a small groan as he feels fingers at his stomach, sliding beneath his shirt and up his chest, warm against his skin. (Dick is always warmer than him.) The scrape of nails is expected, and not that hard, but still good enough to drag a second moan from his chest. Dick hums something encouraging, tugging lightly at his hair just a fraction of a second before the nails trail up to circle one nipple, giving him a second of anticipation before they pinch it.

Dick gives an obviously pleased sound in response to his shallow gasp, before finally letting him break the kiss. “That’s it, Jay,” Dick murmurs, fingers releasing their grip on Jason’s hair for a moment so they can comb his bangs back from his face.

“Fuck, _Dick_.” Jason pauses for a small snort, and a shake of his head. “I’m supposed to be working _you_ up, not the other way around.”

“I think it’s mutually beneficial,” Dick says, voice low and almost distracted sounding. Jason is way too attracted to that tone for his own good, and he has to swallow, which pulls a wicked, knowing smile to Dick's mouth. "You just look so good like this, Jay. You've been doing all the heavy lifting; why don't you let me take the reins for a bit? I'll treat you good, baby, you know I will."

Jason shivers, eyes flickering closed for a moment at that promise. That's the kind of promise that Dick never fails to make good on.

"This was supposed to be about _you_ ," he points out, his own voice lower now as well. It's a small chance that Dick changes his mind now, but Jason still has to give it one last try. (If this were a fight, he'd be losing. Badly.)

Dick's hand flattens out against his chest. "It is about me. Me, doing what I want, and that's all intertwined with you. Let me call the shots here, Jay. Let me have you how I want you."

There's something about the tone Dick says it in, something about the look in Dick's eyes when Jason meets them, that sets things straight in his head with a _click_ so sharp it feels like it should be audible. This _is_ about Dick. This is about Dick being injured, and feeling trapped in their apartment and his own skin by that damaged knee. This is about Dick needing help to do simple things, and having to rely on someone else for it. This is about Dick not having _control_ , and now that there's something that he _can_ have control over, he wants it. Needs it, because Dick's as stubborn and weird about control as the rest of them; he just hides it better than most.

Jason gives a small sigh as he shakes his head again. "Control freak," he grumbles, with no real heat. "Yeah, alright, Goldie. Call the play."

The _smile_ that Dick gives, and the way he kisses him, is more than enough to chase away all but a tiny bit of guilt festering in Jason's chest from the fact that he didn't _notice_ that Dick was feeling so out of control of his surroundings. That it took _this_ to get him to see it. Jason's supposed to be better at reading Dick than that. (He was supposed to _take care_ of him while he's hurt, and that goes behind the physical.)

When they part again, after they're both breathless and Jason is resisting the urge to all but lie down on top of Dick to get them closer, Dick breathes, "Take this off, Little Wing." It's punctuated by a sharp tug at his shirt, and Jason is all too happy to obey that demand.

He pushes up, getting himself up on his knees so he can hook his fingers at the bottom of his shirt and pull it up. It means losing the hands Dick has on his chest and in his hair due to the distance, but considering that one slips down to hook into the waistband of his jeans instead, he considers that a fair trade. Jason lets the shirt drop to the side, and those fingers hooked just underneath his jeans give a small pull forward, guiding him to shift forward enough that those clever, practiced fingers can undo the button and the zipper.

"There we go," Dick murmurs, fingers sliding down into Jason's now open jeans to cup the shape of his cock against the fabric of the boxers in between. Jason can't hold in the thin groan that escapes him, and Dick grins, squeezes _exactly_ enough to get him to buck forward. "I'm looking forward to this. Grab the lube, Jay."

Luckily, Dick lets go of him the next moment, because Jason's not sure if he could have actually obeyed otherwise. He has to crawl off the bed and go around to get the lube, because the only other way to reach it is straight over Dick, and he doesn't quite trust himself enough to climb over Dick's knee. This is safer; just in case.

Dick knows what he's doing, he's sure, but doesn't comment. Instead, that blue gaze follows Jason across the room, raking over his back with enough intent that it might as well be physical, like a hand stroking the length of his spine. He retrieves the lube from the nightstand, and when he turns back Dick is in the middle of stripping his own shirt off, back curving up to let him drag it up and over his head. Jason just stares for a moment, caught by the curl of the muscle on Dick's stomach. Never a sight that gets old.

Dick grins when he notices Jason watching, and holds out a hand with a quiet, "Come here?"

There's really no other response but to take Dick's hand and let himself be pulled back onto the bed, especially because Dick guides his hand down to slip under the briefs he's wearing, hips pushing up into his hand. Jason lets his hand curl around the half-hard weight of Dick's cock, and Dick gives him a groan, fingers leaving his hand there and coming up to curl around the back of his neck instead. He has to take a steadying breath before he can use his other hand to push Dick's briefs down, one hip at a time. Dick takes over the next moment, both hands coming down and pushing the briefs partway down his thighs. More than enough for current purposes.

"Get me open," Dick orders, hand returning to the back of his neck and squeezing down for a moment, nails just hard enough against Jason's skin to feel fantastic.

"Sir, yes, sir," he mocks, but he pops open the lube anyway.

It's a matter of practice to get it on his fingers, and then get that hand down between Dick's legs. Jason ends up letting go of Dick's cock so he can use that hand to brace, letting him get his mouth on Dick's chest and neck, to enthusiastic sounds of appreciation. Dick repays the favor by getting one hand in his hair and one on his back, nails scraping just the right amount and in all the sensitive places that Dick knows he enjoys. (Jason's _really_ grateful that his jeans are open now, because otherwise this would be getting really uncomfortable, really fast.)

Experience lets him work Dick open without needing the guidance he used to, and Jason would be lying if he said that he didn't enjoy getting the chance to leave some marks across Dick's skin. There's a darker, possessive part of him that likes having Dick be very clearly his, and he knows for a fact that Dick has the exact same part of him, down beneath the brighter exterior. The massive hickeys that commonly adorn his neck tell him that plainly enough. (And maybe, somewhere deep down in him, Jason likes being marked, too.)

It takes longer than usual, thanks to their week of enforced celibacy, but finally Jason gets Dick open enough that he feels comfortable moving forward, and he pulls his fingers out and slowly, reluctantly, disconnects himself from Dick's grip. That's the hardest part, really, but Dick lets him go after a moment of clinging, albeit with one final, sharp nip to the top of his shoulder. There's a gorgeous flush to Dick's cheeks, one Jason knows is probably mirrored on his own.

"You ready?" Jason asks, as he wipes his hand off on his jeans before twisting to get them off.

"More than," is the slightly breathless response. "Get me out of these and then come here."

Jason's very careful about pulling Dick's briefs down past the injured knee, but he manages to do it with only one wince, which is honestly better than he was expecting. Then, Dick opens his thighs and reaches up to tug him close, and pretty much all thoughts about being careful about the knee fly out of Jason's head for a moment. Until only one leg wraps around the back of his, and then he gives the angle of the injured knee a glance and tries to—quickly, because Dick's not going to let him stall for long—figure out if this is going to hurt it at all.

"It's _fine_ ," Dick says, before Jason can even begin to reach the end of his considerations. "Jay, I'm good. I'll let you know if I'm not. Now _fuck me_."

He almost laughs, but manages to contain it to a crooked grin instead. "Alright, alright. Just like this, right?"

"That's right." Dick reaches down between them before Jason can, and he sucks in a breath as Dick's hand wraps around his cock, guiding him in at the right angle. "Not too hard," comes the breathed instruction. "Draw it out if you can."

"If I _can?_ " is about all Jason manages before he's pushing forward. Dick groans, head falling back as his hips push down to meet the slow thrust. Easy, relaxed, like he always is at this point. "I—” Jason has more on the tip of his tongue, but it falls underneath a matching groan and a small shudder and, well, maybe Dick has a point.

One of Dick's hands grabs his ass as the other wraps over his back, keeping him close. "Mm, that's good," Dick murmurs, the single leg hooked around Jason's thighs pulling at him a bit, as if it could get them closer together. "You always feel so good, Jay."

Jason shivers again. The way that Dick says that, low and almost lazy, goes straight to his gut. He has to close his eyes, clench his jaw, to try and get control back. Slow. He has to go _slow_.

After a couple sharp breaths through his nose, he manages to get himself together enough to move. He steadies himself on both arms, and rolls his hips in a shallow thrust. The sound Dick makes is a small grunt, like it's been shoved out of him, and Jason has to grind down on the noise he wants to make in response. Lowering his head, pressing his lips to Dick's shoulder and neck, is an easy way to keep himself busy as he sets up a slow, rolling rhythm. Minimum jostling, and the hand Dick has on his ass pushes and pulls him to that same rhythm, almost like he's a particularly realistic toy to be used. Jason… likes that thought more than he should probably admit.

Dick's free hand slides up his back, curling into his hair and tugging him into a kiss. With the slower pace the kiss manages to be more in depth than they usually manage at this point; Jason curls his fingers into the sheets beneath them when Dick bites at his lip before really kissing him, hips giving a small jerk in reaction to the feeling. Dick's appreciative, muffled moan comes along with a scrape of nails over his scalp, and Jason has to give his own moan. Dick knows him all too well; then again, he knows Dick pretty well too.

Carefully, Jason braces himself steadily enough on one hand that he can reach down with the other and wrap his hand around Dick. Dick will get off with just the fucking, eventually, but Jason's pretty damn sure he's not going to last as long as that would take, and he's not about to let Dick's first sexual thing in a _week_ end like that. With an added hand, he can get Dick off first.

Dick breaks the kiss at his touch, hips rolling up against his hand as he gives a strained sound from low in his chest. The fingers in Jason's hair stay tight, keeping him close as his eyes open, meeting Dick's intent, lidded gaze. The _depth_ of that gaze makes his breath catch, and for a moment that's all he can see; that impossible blue and the intense, deep _emotion_ in it. Love; even if Dick didn't tell him practically daily he could never mistake that _look_. Jason swallows, pushes past that niggling little fear in his chest that always rises up whenever Dick really focuses on him like this (like there's nothing in the _world_ but him), and holds the gaze as he slowly matches the stroke of his hand to the slow roll of his thrusts.

Dick's eyelids flicker, the hand on Jason's ass squeezing for a moment before Dick can focus again, can _smile_ up at him.

"Good, Jay," Dick says, breathless and heavy with desire. "That's good. Just like that." A small push of hips into his grip, and the lower hand slides up the dip of his spine to press against the center of his back. "You going to come for me, Jay? Going to let go for me?"

Jason shudders, _wants_ to, but gives a tight shake of his head. "You first," he grits out.

Dick's fingers stroke further up his spine, following it nearly all the way up before diverting to grip the back of his shoulder instead. "Sweet boy," is the murmured, almost teasing response. "You can—You can let go, baby. I want you to—” Dick has to break off, to squirm and clutch at his shoulder, neck arching back. "God, Jason. _Jason_."

Jason tightens his grip just a little bit, stroking a little faster and relishing the strained groan that Dick gives. "Come on, Dick," Jason manages to say, only a little bit breathless. "Let me make you feel good; I'll be right behind you."

That's apparently enough of a promise for Dick to accept, or maybe he's just too aroused to resist. Either way, Dick's fingers dig hard enough into Jason's shoulder that they just might bruise, and the leg wrapped around his thighs pulls him in hard, off-rhythm. Dick's back curves into a small arch as he gives a long, low moan. Jason can feel the tension of muscle, feel the sudden clench around him and he bites down on a swear, grinding up into Dick as he fights to keep hold for just a moment longer. Just long enough to watch as Dick's head twists, teeth flashing, wet warmth splashing up onto Jason's stomach and over his hand.

That's _more_ than enough to kick him off his own edge, and he bites into his lip to muffle the way he echoes Dick's moan, holding himself as still and tight as he can until the release forces him to either relax or start to shake. He chooses to let himself ease, bracing both hands against the bed so he doesn't crush Dick. Letting his head hang down against one marked up, sweaty shoulder is easier than trying to keep it raised though.

Dick's leg slips off the back of his thighs, and Jason doesn’t even have time to try to lift his head before there's a hand on it, stroking through his hair.

"You start that and I might never move," he warns, mumbling it into Dick's shoulder.

Dick gives a small, still breathless laugh. "So lie down first. Come on; shift over."

Jason groans, but makes himself pull back, shuddering at the feeling of slipping free from Dick's body. He sits back on his heels for a second, running his hands up through his own hair as he gives a satisfied, tired sigh of a breath. Dick is smiling up at him when he looks down, watching him with tired but unmistakably fond eyes. Jason can't quite help giving a small curl of a smile back. Just a ghost of one, one corner of his mouth, but Dick smiles even brighter for it all the same. Then he shifts up, winces, and Jason abruptly remembers the cause of all of this.

"Are you alright?" he asks, looking down at Dick's wrapped up knee and considering the angle the leg's at.

"Just a little sore," Dick promises, and reaches up to take his arm and pull him down. "I'm alright; I'm _great_. I promised I would tell you if something was wrong, remember?"

Jason's not totally convinced that their measures of 'wrong' are the same, but he lets Dick pull him down to the bed anyway, lying down along his uninjured side. "Feeling better at least?"

"Much. Just what I needed."

"Good." Dick's hand returns to Jason's hair, and he has to give a long, drawn out sigh of appreciation before he can manage to add, "Whatever you need, Goldie. Just let me know."

Dick gives a considering noise, which is enough to make Jason open his eyes and look up—Dick's smile has gained a distinctly _wicked_ edge—before he says, "Well, unfortunately I'm not sure _I_ can do another round, but how about I give you a bit of time and then you get off for me, Jay?" The smile curls into something almost like a smirk as Jason stares. "It'll be good; I'll talk you through the whole thing."

Jason nearly chokes, and has to swallow, to take in a sharp breath at that idea. "You…” He gives a slightly incredulous laugh, shaking his head the tiny amount he can with it still lying on the bed. "I just signed myself up to be your distraction, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did," Dick says with a grin. "You good with that, Jason?"

He thinks about it for a moment, turning the idea over in his head that he's basically signing up to have sex every time Dick is bored, which is… often. Very often. Having Dick's full, undivided attention on him, devoted to him, centered around _him_. Well, there's really only one answer to a proposition like that.

"Oh _hell_ yes."

**Author's Note:**

> **This was an anonymous commission!**
> 
> [You can find my Tumblr here!](http://skalidra.tumblr.com/)


End file.
